


Life After Gundam

by xX_Rabble_Rouser_Xx



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 08:50:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10873356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xX_Rabble_Rouser_Xx/pseuds/xX_Rabble_Rouser_Xx
Summary: A series of one-shots taking place post-Endless Waltz in the lives of the former pilots, soldiers, politicians, and civilians.A grab bag of characters, relationships, themes, and subject matter. No defined timeline or storyline.





	1. Just Another Maxwell Monday

Duo sits up on the edge of the bed and stretches.

“It’s going to be a good day.”

My less-than-polite response is muffled under the pillow.

He grabs my shoulder and jostles me.

“Hey, I said it’s going to be a good day.”

I groan.

He sticks his face under the edge of the pillow.

“It’s going to be a good day.”

I finally relent.

“It’s going to be a good day.”

He smiles.

“Yes, it is. I’ll go make coffee.”

I have a ten-minute reprieve before he sends the dog in to trample me awake.

I shuffle down the hallway to the kitchen in my t-shirt and sweats.

I wrap my arms around him from behind and lean into him.

“It’s going to be a good day.”

I nod tiredly against his shoulder blades.

He says this every morning, and he is never wrong.

Every day that we have each other is a good day.


	2. Once an Engineer, Always an Engineer

“Hey, I got the new desk you wanted!”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and walk into the garage. It has been a long day at work but the roller coaster of Life With Duo isn’t over yet.

“It was from IKEA, Duo! It didn’t require _power tools_!”

“It didn’t until I got _my_ hands on it.”

“Did you even read the directions?”

“Nope. Don’t care.”

This is not a shock.

“What did you do this time?” I sigh, hoping it wouldn’t be as bad as the time he put heavier springs in the recliner and turned it into a literal _cat_ apult.

“First off I painted it with glow-in-the-dark paint so you don’t run into it in the dark anymore because you insist on putting your desk in the worst spots.”

“Okay, that’s actually useful.”

“And then I put some Bluetooth speakers, some outlets and USB plug-ins in the top for your phone and those adorable toast-shaped hand warmers, and a shelf over here to keep all your weird doo-dads out of the way.”

“You bought me most of those weird doo-dads.”

“I know, I’m amazing, you don’t have to keep reminding me.”

He grins, that get-out-of-jail-free smile that instantly throws me into a debate between “kiss” and “slap the crap out of.” I can never decide for sure.

“But here’s the best part…”

He looks so proud. I can’t help but smile back despite my growing dread about the spare parts scattered across his workbench. Parts that were once screwed together into the recognizable form of the most essential piece of my office supplies.

“I installed your coffee mug warmer directly into the desk top.”

I smile and shake my head. Other girls get flowers and jewelry. I get desks that look like the bastard child of Office Depot and Battle Bots, and the occasional color-changing salt crystal lamp that Duo yanks out of the USB plug as soon as he enters the room so he won’t end up staring at it, mesmerized for an hour… again.

He wraps his arms around me from behind. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I like it.”

“I even figured out a way to keep the cat off of it.”

“We’ve been over this! You _cannot_ run an electric current through the top of the desk.”

“You don’t appreciate my genius.”

“More like rampant but occasionally useful insanity.”

“That’s probably more accurate.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I can’t believe you don’t trust me!”

Duo looks shocked for half a second before covering it with a scowl. “It’s not that I don’t trust you.”

“You don’t! We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you trusted me.”

“I do trust you, it’s just that…”

I cut him off with a finger in his face. “It’s just that you don’t! Duo, come on, when have I ever lied to you?”

“Never.”

“When have I ever gone behind your back?”

“You haven’t.”

“Have I ever given you any reason to doubt me?”

He rolls his eyes. “No.”

I cross my arms. “That’s right. I’ve told you everything about myself, about my life, good and bad. I’ve let you in and made you the most important part of my life. I trust you implicitly. Why can’t you trust me like that?”

“It’s not like that. This is way more personal than anything that has ever come up between us. I do trust you, I promise.”

“So why won’t you act like it?”

“I do trust you. I swear.”

“Then let’s just get this over with,” I sigh. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

He nods, then carefully kneels and bends over the side of the bathtub with all the gravity of placing his head on an execution block.

He can be so dramatic sometimes.

I kneel beside him and grab some shampoo and the shower’s spray attachment.

“Your arm will be out of the cast in 6-8 weeks, if I haven’t drowned you in here by then.”


End file.
